Know Your Heart: A New Zealand - Tracey Alvarez Page 0,58
high windows, dimmed by thick spider webs spanning them. Nate had told her he’d already removed forty years of collected tools, broken down machines, and hoarded crap. Clumps of dirt and debris left behind after the workmen’s junk removal covered the concrete floor, and furtive scurrying from the shadowy back corner indicated she trespassed in some sort of rodent’s home.
Nice. She’d leave both doors wide open, and hopefully Ratty or Mousy and their furry family would make a quiet exit.
Sav located the grime-covered light switch beside the door, but only two of the three bare bulbs dangling from the high ceiling worked. She ducked outside to retrieve her supplies.
She could do this.
She was many things, some of them not flattering, but she wasn’t a diva—she could cope with getting her hands dirty.
Sav marched over to the tiny, built-in cubicle in the far corner that Nate mentioned contained a toilet. She pried open the door, stiff from disuse, and died.
Just. Died.
There was filthy, then there was filthy.
At least she’d found the rodents’ love nest.
Sav glanced back at her broom, at the stacked-up bottles of cleaner, at the scrubbing brush.
With a sigh, she got to work.
***
When the words flowed, they came in a bloody deluge.
On the couch, computer on his lap, fingers flying over the keyboard, Tom still asleep so silence reigned…Glen was in heaven. Nate’s Range Rover had pulled up thirty minutes ago, and Glen’d had a flicker of awareness, a shimmering over the skin that told him Savannah was close by, but he’d ignored it.
He’d figure out what the hell to do with her after he’d gotten another couple thousand words down.
Because he was in the zone, baby.
The zone where his warlock was beating the snot out of Mathik, a childhood friend who’d betrayed him to their enemies. Blood brothers going head to head, with Mathik about to draw out a dagger and turn a brawl deadly serious. Glen typed faster. He was flying through the scene, he was—
A shriek worthy of a movie’s teenage scream-queen split the morning air.
It felt like a fist had rammed a jagged iceberg down his throat and into his stomach.
With speed Mathik would envy, Glen threw his still-open laptop onto the couch and bolted from the room, yelling Savannah’s name as he ran out of the house. The screams continued from the direction of the old barn.
Shit—was she hurt? Had the building collapsed?
Glen sprinted past the caravan, his leg muscles trembling as an overdose of adrenaline hit his system. Small rocks stabbed into his bare feet as he ran along the short path. The lights were on inside the barn, the doors wide open. His frantic gaze scanned the dim interior as he blasted through the barn entrance.
“Savannah!”
He spotted her at the far end, her hair a tangled mess, her eyes wide and shiny. She ran, skidding to a halt in front of him. Before he could check for injuries or ask what the hell happened, she spun around.
“Get it off me!”
Her hands flailed around, and she jumped from foot to foot in a crazy dance complete with booty shaking.
Caught between leftover fear, fuzzy confusion, and the ever-present and unwelcome twinge of arousal, Glen couldn’t form a coherent response.
“What?” he managed, raking his gaze down her grime-smeared shirt and jeans.
No bloodstains, good. No bone shards protruding anywhere, also good.
“Spider. A freaking spider fell on me—getitoffgetitoff.”
“A spider?”
He’d thought by the volume of that scream she’d at the very least lost a limb. But because he wasn’t a complete asshole, he laid a hand on her shoulder and added, “Hold still. I’ll find it.”
She immediately quit dancing and stilled. He scanned her back—there. Some sort of garden spider, and a decent-sized one, too, hitching a ride in the tangled strands of her hair. His nose scrunched up—he wasn’t overly fond of the eight-legged bastards, but for Sav…
Glen combed his fingers through her hair, dragged out the spider and flicked it onto the floor. “Got it.”
She whirled then choked out a breathy squeak. “Holy mother of God, it’s huge!” Sav darted behind him and gave him a shove. “Kill it! Stomp on it!”
The spider, likely irritated by all the jiggling and death threats, reared a couple of its brown legs off the concrete.
Glen ducked to the side before Sav gave him another push in the pissed off arachnid’s direction. “Hell no, not with bare feet.”
Her lips quivered into a smile. “Pussy.”
An insult both unexpected and slightly arousing, it caused a burst of laughter to explode out of